


Caring Becomes An Advantage

by takingtheTARDISto221B



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:23:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takingtheTARDISto221B/pseuds/takingtheTARDISto221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is about how John coped with Sherlock's death after the fall. A new character (of my creation) appears and turns John's whole life around. Who is this woman that reminds him of the past? And how will Sherlock deal with it when he comes back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caring Becomes An Advantage

**Author's Note:**

> These characters belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss, and Steven Moffat.  
> I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK  
> The only character that is mine is yet to come.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fall Mycroft gives John some news that will soon change everything...

**_ CHAPTER1 _ **

****

It was a bright beautiful day in London. The sun had finally broken its way through the seemingly endless blanket of clouds that were constantly causing London to look dreary and overcast. For this rare occasion, the birds were singing in the trees. Insects were buzzing about. A light, crisp breeze was causing the leaves to rustle about the sidewalk. It seemed like everyone in London decided to take advantage of this gorgeous day. Parents were taking their kids to the park. Joggers and dog walkers alike were extending their usual routes. People everywhere were strolling on the streets instead of taking a cab just to take advantage of the gorgeous weather. All in all it was a wonderfully eventful day and everyone seemed to be happy... That is, until you crossed into the threshold of 221b.

 

In 221B another pitiful, worthless day started for John Watson. He woke up and went through his usual routine: Wake up, bathroom, coffee, couch, back to bed, sleep, repeat...

 

Currently, he was staring out the window at the people that were passing by the flat, tea in hand.

 

  _Everyone looks so happy,_ he thought to himself, _so happy and carefree..._

 

 From somewhere deep inside of him came the same sorrow that had him tied down for these last couple months...

 

_That's because they don't know..._

He sighed. _No. They didn't know._ These happy carefree people had no idea that his entire world was taken away from him in a matter of seconds and that.... there was nothing he could have done to stop it.

 

 Shaking his head he decided to expel those thoughts before they became too much. He laid on the couch and turned the telly on to some random channel; but he paid no attention to it. He couldn’t.

Sherlock’s death had been a complete shock for John. And he still kept asking himself the same question, even after three years…. _Why?_

 

Pretty soon John drifted off to sleep.

 

 

_“It's all true.”_

_“What?”_

_“Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty.”_

_“Why are you saying this?”_

_“I'm a fake.”_

_“Sherlock—“_

_“The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you. That I created Moriarty for my own purposes.”_

_“Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met—the first time we met—you knew all about my sister, right?”_

_“Nobody could be that clever.”_

_“You could.”_

_“I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. It’s just a magic trick.”_

_“No. Alright, stop it now.”_

_“No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move.”_

_“Alright.”_

_“Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?”_

_“Do what?”_

_“This phone call, it's... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note.”_

_“Leave a note when?”_

_“Goodbye, John.”_

_“No don’t….”_

“Sherlock!” John yelled as he sat up on the couch. He looked around wildly, but realized he was alone.

He laid his head back down, trying to get his breathing under control. Surely by now Mrs. Hudson would have been knocking on his door asking if he was alright but she quickly came to terms with the fact that this was now normal for him. John reached over to the coffee table and checked the time on his phone.

 

_2:47_

He sighed and with still shaking hands put his phone back and decided it was time to get up and make some tea.

 

 Just as he was heading towards the kitchen he looked out the window to see a black sedan pull up to 221 Baker Street.

 

“Lovely,” he muttered to himself. That was just what John needed, Mycroft meddling in his business.

 

He trudged over to the kettle to get it boiling, and as he listened closely he heard the rapping on the door followed by Mrs. Hudson’s sweet voice striking a conversation with Mycroft.

 

 _Sigh._ That would take some time.

 

It wasn’t that John hated Mycroft… he just hated the fact that Mycroft was constantly in his business. After Greg had once again stopped John from ending his life, Mycroft had placed John on his maximum watch list. Nowadays Mycroft was at 221b at least once a week, sometimes with Greg in tow.

 

By the time Mycroft finished chatting with Mrs. Hudson, the kettle was already boiling.

John, just to show how vexed he was about Mycroft's sudden appearance, left the door to the flat wide open, tea sitting on the coffee table in front of the chair while he sat in the one opposite reading a book as if to say _"Hello you sodding git. State your request and leave."_

 

He heard the thumping of Mycroft’s footsteps on the stairs but focused on his book.

 

“Hello Doctor Watson,” said Mycroft.

 

“Mycroft.” He mumbled.

 

The older Holmes sat down on the couch and sipped the tea.

 

“I would love to stay and _–chat-_ “, said Mycroft, “but I have matters to attend to and only wished to ask you to assist me with a certain matter.”

 

“Oh really?” John  Replied sarcastically.

 

This was going to be -tedious- to say the least. Everything was tedious when Mycroft came by.

 

 "Someone is going to be coming by the flat later. They will be answering an ad that I had placed in the paper."

 

“And what kind of ad might we be talking about?”

 

Mycroft had a tendency to do things without caring about how it affects the people around him. John watched as Mycroft picked up a paper from the coffee table.

“See for yourself...”

 

John took the paper from Mycroft and read:

 

**_Flat Mate Wanted_ **

**_2 bedroom, 1 bathroom, kitchen and living room_ **

**_Inquire at 221 B Baker Street, London_ **

**_RENT PAYMENT NOT NECESSARY_ **

****

John let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. By this time he was already fighting off a migraine... That was also something that happened frequently when Mycroft graced him with his presence.

 

 But of course Mycroft ignored his exasperation and continued.

 

 "I need you to let them move in..."

 

 "What?!" John said incredulously. "Mycroft, you can't be serious... I can't let some stranger into our..." he paused, catching himself "... _my_ flat..."

 

Mycroft seemed to ignore the fact that John had accidentally mentioned his deceased brother. That or, it didn’t faze him in the least. He seemed to be indifferent about the death of his younger brother. Mycroft had been at the funeral, even if he was taking phone calls for most of the gathering. John had found a small sense of security with Greg. He was the one who had stayed with him the entire week after the fall, trying to make sure that he would be alright. Greg, having only met Mycroft once before the funeral, had reproached Mycroft for being so heartless about the entire situation, and even though Mycroft apologized then, John was sure that his insensible mind- set had returned and that his brother’s death was- if anything- a thing of the past.

 

"I understand your concern... but let me assure you that you will be very safe. I will have my security team watching constantly." He put on his fake smile. "You have nothing to worry about."

 

 John thought about this for a moment. He wasn't exactly comfortable letting someone into his flat; however Mycroft said the words that he was hoping he would not have to resort to...

 

 "I will pay you very handsomely if you so decide to take on this task for me."

Well fuck. Now what was he going to do? He had to take this job now. He had already turned down Mycroft once for financial help... but he was starting to fall behind on bills.

 He rubbed the back of his head... "Fine. Fine- I'll do it. I'll-" He stopped himself before he said something stupid, but Mycroft was already standing up to leave.

 

 "Thank you, John. I do much appreciate your assistance in this matter." He picked up his umbrella and headed towards the door. "Your new flat mate will be by tomorrow... And thank you for the tea." He turned to leave.

 

 "Wait," he called to Mycroft, "aren't you going to tell me who it is?" He was hoping that Mycroft wouldn't send him into the situation completely blind. Instead the elder Holmes chuckled morosely and turned to face John.

 

 "I will have to let you see for yourself..."

 

And with that, Mycroft turned and walked out of the flat, leaving John to stand there and wonder...

 

_What the bloody hell did I just get myself into...?_

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys, this is my first fanfic and its still unfinished, so comments and critiques are very appreciated. :) I hope you will stick around... it will get better, I promise!


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